"But that is past and gone. And, after all, though it was a mistake on their part, it may have turned out for the best, you know," said John, in his simplicity, which, after all, was better than some men's cunning. "If such and such events hadn't happened, others would have come to pass which would have brought their share of trouble, I daresay. And, as it was, you have enjoyed much happiness and some prosperity in life, although not in the way you first thought of."
"And am come back to die," said the other, sadly.
"And death is the portal of life—the entrance into it, if we could but see it so," rejoined Tincroft. "But I was speaking of your parents and your old home. Don't you think you ought to let bygones be bygones, and make it up with them?"
"Do you think so, Mr. Tincroft?"
"I do think so," said John. "I am quite sure that it will be one of the happiest days of your life when you can feel that you have forgiven, from your heart, the trespasses which men have trespassed against you."
"Ah! And how do you know that?" demanded Wilson, quickly.
"By having tried it, Walter," said John, meekly.
The conversation, broken and disjointed as it was, and imperfectly as it has been reported, did not terminate here; but it took another turn. But as this bore upon matters which do not immediately concern our history, it may be omitted here. It is enough to say that, a few days afterwards, Wilson renewed the former subject.
"I have been thinking over what you said, and I think I ought not to keep up my bad feelings. I mean to write home and offer to be friends."
"I am glad you do think and mean so," said John, dubiously.